


The Postman Always Rings Twice

by samchandler1986



Category: GLOW (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samchandler1986/pseuds/samchandler1986
Summary: Prompt fic: Not wearing that[Sam didn't think agreeing to help out with Ruth's GLOW Christmas special would involve costumes.]
Relationships: Sam Sylvia/Ruth Wilder
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	The Postman Always Rings Twice

“Sam.”

“Nope.”

“Sam, come on−”

“No-oo.”

Ruth puts her hands on her hips, undeterred by his truculence. “ _You_ said you wanted to be a part of this year’s Christmas special.”

“Yeah, but not wearing that!”

“What did you think you were going to be wearing?”

He shrugs his shoulders, scowling. “I don’t fucking know. I figured you’d need… Santa or something. Not a goddamn _mailman_.”

Ruth presses her lips together, fighting the laugh that will absolutely end any chance they have of him joining in as planned. “Really?” she deadpans instead. “Santa? On the grotto set with the child actors for two days?”

He sighs, deflating slightly. “Alright, okay…”

“Keith is playing Santa, but if you want to be a happy little elf, I can−”

“You’ve made your fucking point, Ruth,” he snaps. “So, what does this mailman have to do, anyway…?”

*

Fake snow sprays across the set. If Ruth is entirely honest, it’s slightly more _foamy_ than ideal, but the novelty of having an actual budget for special effects rather than a determined DIY approach hasn’t worn off yet.

“And, action!” she calls.

“You!” shouts Debbie-as-Liberty-Belle, pointing dramatically. “We should have known you’d be behind all this! What have you done to Santa’s Sleigh?”

“Me?” she returns, ridiculous faux-innocent as Zoya. “I have done nothing to fat capitalist’s stupid sleigh.”

“Liar! Tell me why the reindeer can’t fly!”

“Oh! Well, I may have made _teensy_ adjustment to the Christmas-o-meter…” She steps aside, revealing the candy-cane machine to be comprehensively smashed.

“But… but that’s what converts belief in Santa into magic!”

“Such a shame! Now there is no one to deliver the presents. And stupid Americans will learn meaning of _Soviet_ Christmas!” She cackles manically for good measure, as Liberty Belle pouts and shakes her head. “What? You think you can stop me now? It’s too late, American Princess.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Zoya! Because here in the United States we have someone else we can rely on when it comes to delivering presents. Neither snow nor rain, not heat nor gloom of night can stay _these_ couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the US Postal Service, commie scum!”

“ _Nyet_! It is not possible!”

“We’ll see about that! C’mon Santa! I’ll hold her off while you and Postman Zip make the deliveries!”

The two women dive for one another, locking up; intense as ever for the close up−

“And, cut!”

The bell rings across set and Ruth and Debbie let go. “I still can’t believe you got him to agree to this,” Debbie says in an undertone, as they reset for another take. 

“Who, Sam?” She turns to look at the subject of their conversation, sharing a cigarette of embarrassed solidarity with Keith off-camera. “Well, you know, I−”

“Please… don’t ever make me picture the methods you were forced to employ.”

Ruth can’t help but laugh. “He−he wanted to a part of this,” she says.

“Mm-hm,” Debbie returns, unconvinced. “Or knows how important it is to you, anyway.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Debbie catches her eye, surprised at the uncharacteristic flash of assertiveness. “No,” she says, smiling slightly. “No, I don’t think so.”

*

Ruth fusses with the neckline of her silky dressing gown, oddly nervous. It’s not the sort of thing she’d usually pick to wear, but then of course, that’s rather the point−

_Knock-knock_.

She swallows to try and clear any squeak from her voice. “Just a moment,” she says. Aiming for husky, probably hitting hoarse instead. It’s their first time trying something like this, she reassures herself. They can work on it. She takes a deep breath and opens the bedroom door. “Hello. Can I… help you?”

His face is a picture, delighted surprise at her sultry get-up warring with awkwardness at his own attire. “Maybe,” he says. “I’ve got a…” He coughs, but manages to get the words out in the end. “Special delivery…?”

“Oh,” she says, running a finger down the buttons of his striped shirt, “well, in that case, I suppose you’d better come in…”


End file.
